A Reason To Die
by Misgiving Writer
Summary: The world has changed. War is something that surround everyone, in every country, and death is not foreign to anyone. Twenty two years ago, the X-Men vanished. Now they're back. But nothing is the same as when they left.
1. Prolog

A/N: 'Nother challenge for the _Writing Junkie_ forum here on Fanfiction. Again, by MidnightNimh. Why? Because this idea was awesome and there isn't anyone else on the forum to give me a challenge. Read and enjoy!

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><p>In the year of 2010, a small group called the Friends Of Humanity sprung up. This group, led by a man named Tom Fallows, was fiercly against the new sub-race that had been springing up. This sub-race, more often called an abomination by those that chose to recognize it's existance, was the one that we often call <em>mutants<em>. Human beings with extraordinary powers and insurmountable amounts of strength and stamina.

The Friends Of Humanity believed that the mutants would rise up and try to destroy them; that they were a dangerous _creature_ and that they had to be _destroyed_. And, in the beginning, this group was nothing more than a laughing stock. Putting up anti-mutant posters and speaking at rallies to try and ban children with mutant abilities from going to the public schools.

No one thought that they would amount to anything, least of all the mutant population.

By the year of 2013 those that had once believed that began to feel differently. Tom Fallows decided that they needed to use a different aproach. They needed to show the world that they were serious and that those with the X Gene, as the strand of DNA that gave one mutant powers was called, were mere beasts that had to be put down. So the Friends Of Humanity slackened on their posters and their speaches - and they picked up guns and metal poles instead.

Mutants who lived on the streets were no longer safe. The Friends Of Humanity would kill any mutant that they came across. They broke into houses and stormed schools, dragging the mutants outside and murdering them for all to see. People were apauled. At least until the mutants started to fight back.

On October fourth, 2016, a mutant by the name of Renee Weathers started what would soon be known as the Mutant Wars; and, eventually, as the third World War.

Renee Weathes was young woman with the ability to shoot burst of heat out of the palms of her hands. When the Friends Of Humanity tracked her down, she was at the grocery store with her boyfriend, Michals Trey. They pulled her into the streets by her hair and held a gun to her head. And she fought back, killing one of the members of Friends Of Humanity by blasting obscene amounts of heat into his face.

People in the streets began to panic. They began to loose their common sense and fear the mutants. After all if one could do that to a man, just by touching him with her palm, then what could someone with _stronger_ powers do? What could happen if someone lost control?

So they backed up the Friends Of Humanity's odd laws and brutal ways. They petitioned to the government for help, for a defence against what would surely be mankinds downfall. At first, the President refused. They were still people, he argued, and they still had rights.

December twenty-fourth of the same year brought madness to the streets. It was a planned event. All across the United States, people gathered in the streets. They gathered carrying guns and knives. Pipes and bats and wratchets. Gasoline by the gallons and matches by the dozens. And, as the smoke curled into the sky and the snow turned crimson, the message of the people came across loud and clear.

_If you don't do something about them, then we will_.

Hundreds of people were slaughtered that day and, on the next, thousands of buildings used as bases for the Friends Of Humanity cropped up across the country.

The war had begun and it wouldn't end for years to come.

Over the next five years, millions of men, women, and children carrying the X Gene were yanked from their homes and killed. Bombs went off. Buildings burned. And the government turned a blind eye to it all. The rest of the world, however, did not.

In the year of 2021 the countries of France, Scotland, and China got involved. They sent messages to the President of the United States asking for actions against the Friends Of Humanity to be taken. When their requests were ignored, they announced over national television that their countries would forever be open to the mutant populace.

In 2022, the first of what would soon be a series of bombs were dropped onto the idyllic city of Paris, France. By 2023, war had offically been waged between all four countries. Over the next ten years these four countries turned to eight and then thirteen and then forty and, soon, there was not a country in the world that had not voiced their opinion on the matter. Some agreed with the orginal three countries, now known as the F-S-C-Union, and stated that mutants were human beings too and should get the same rights as everyone else. Others agreed with the Friends Of Humanity and wished to completely abolish the mutant race.

On the fifteenth day of June, 2033, Poland became the one hundredth and ninty-third country to join the Mutant Wars. And, in every sense of the word, it was a World War.

Mayham filled the streets. Entire countries were bombed and burned and wiped off of the map. Cities crumbled. Forests burnt to the ground. Gasses and smoke filled the air like never before, polluting and poisoning the waters and animals that humans everywhere used to survive. No one was safe unless they were on the side of the Friends Of Humanity.

During all of this madness, a small town just outside of New York City was chosen as the main headquarters for the Friends Of Humanity. This town was called Bayville and was home to the worlds single largest school for mutants; Xavier's Institute For Gifted Children. This school became the main target for Fallows. In fact, he was almost obsessed with destroying them.

Why?

For the simple reason that this school housed the team known as the X-Men. And the X-Men, he knew, could grow to be a problem. What he didn't realize was, way back on the fourth of October of 2016, Charles Xavier gathered up his teachers and his students and he fled with them. Abandoning Bayville and all those that lived there, leaving in the middle of the night with nought a word to anyone, they moved to an unknown location.

When Tom Fallows realized this, he turned his full attention on the other mutants in Bayville and the nearby towns. And, as the war started and raged on around them, Bayville became a tabboo word. No one tread there for fear of the labratories, Factories, and mass groups of Friends Of Humanity agents that prowled the streets.

By the year of 2034, the Uniter States was completely run by the Friends Of Humanity. Mutants everywhere lived in fear - forced to register themselves and, when the time came, step forward and go to whatever Factory they were ordered to move to. Those that didn't instantly became outlaws and issues were sent out to kill them on sight. Food was rationed out, only sold to those that had Ration Tickets. Water was even harder to come by. Medicine nearly impossible to find _anywhere_.

On February of 2034, with the fighting reaching a high in the world around them, the first incinerator was built in Orlando, Florida. In April, the fourteenth one was built. By June, people started to give up and give in.

October third brought about a revelation that no one expected. It brought about the first sighting of an X-Man in nearly twenty-three years.

This is that story. The tale of how a war-torn world reacts to seeing the heroes again. How they affect the flow of the world - whether it be for the better or for the worst. And how, by the time the war ended, a lesson that had never been taught before was learnt by millions.


	2. Joining The War

A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed your Winter! Nimh, I hope you enjoy this chapter! You know it's been written for a while, right? I just got a virus on my laptop and couldn't post it. But it's all fixed now so, as soon as I make some executive decisions, I will get the next chapter written and posted!

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><p>"What is it that you wanted, Jean?" Ororro asked, gracefully taking her seat at the rather empty dining room table.<p>

Seeing as it wasn't actually time for any meal, and most of the younger mutants were in their respective bedrooms to work on school, the only mutants in the room were the ones that Jean had called together. Ororro, obviously, along with Scott, Hank, and Warren all sat scattered about the table. The red-headed girl in charge of calling everyone together stood at the far end of the table - in the very spot where Charles Xavier once sat for every meal.

"Well." Jean paused before she could really get anywhere and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. It didn't take a psychic to know what sort of reactions she was about to get. "I wanted to speak to you all about the War."

Bodies tensed and a heavy silence draped itself over the room. Speaking about the Mutant War was almost a taboo in the Manor. It just wasn't something that was done; either because there were young ones in the room that were viewed as being to innocent to hear of the terrors that plagued the outside world or because the adults, and those considered adults, were too ill at ease to bring up the subject. The War that raged outside brought nothing but bad memories and bad feelings.

"What about the War?" Hank asked, voice weary. "Did you hear about something that the radios didn't tell us?"

In the last several years, underground radio programs had started springing up on all sorts of stations. They were always short and to the point, with a different speaker each night, but they gave out insight that the world was deprived of otherwise. Who raided what country. What cause had the most support that day. What important political figure had been felled and who had taken their place. Things like that - and sometimes words of prayer and whispers of advice, to lock the doors and close the windows and _always_ keep your head down and stay out of sight. And, for the mutants that had managed to stay on the run, the programs spoke of safe-houses and businesses that would supply food and drink without needind a Food Ticket as payment.

But these programs didn't tell everything and everyone knew that. Some of them went out of their way to find out news of the going-ons around them. The X-Men preffered to follow the advice given to them and keep their heads down. If something good had happened, then surely each and every radio-announcer would be sure to tell of it.

"Yes. And No." Jean ran a hand through her hair and sighed before deciding to just get it over with. Every one was already there and it wasn't like this was a spurr of the moment decision. She had been thinking and worrying and planning about what what she was about to say for _weeks_ now.

"Come on, Jean!" Scott said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just tell us what's going on."

For a moment, the psychic girl was beyond miffed. But she bit her tounge and told herself that Scott didn't mean to speak to her that way, that he was just upset and tired and stressed like everyone else in the Manor was.

"We all know what's going on outside." She finally began. "Even if we try not to think about it. There isn't any doubt in our minds that the War's not dying down or fading away or anything like that. And even if we never hear the exact toll, we all know that hundreds of people have died already. _Even more_ are going to die."

"And?" Warren prompted. There was a twinkle in his eye though, a little spark that hadn't been there for a while, that let Jean know he had already caught on to what she was saying. Or he at least thought he had, maybe even hoped that he had.

"And we're all just sitting here - no, _hiding_ here, like it doesn't concern us! When the truth of the matter is that it _does_." Jean stated firmly, both arms crossing over her chest as she frowned out at the table.

She was met with three looks of disbelief and one of encouragement.

"I think,' she said slowly, choosing each word carefully. 'that we need to join the War."

"Excuse me?" Scott burst, disbelief lacing his words. "What do you mean 'join the War'? You can't be serious, Jean!"

"I _am_ serious, Scott." The red-head answered. "I don't know how we've all stayed isolated like this for so long, but it's time that we join the rest of the world. There are people _starving_ out there! And we all just sit here and ignore it, eating whatever we want and pretending that nothing's going on out there! I can't do it anymore. I wouldn't have thought that you all would be able to, either."

At the end of her speech, she narrowed both vivid green eyes at the bespectscled boy before turning slightly and swinging her gaze around to rest on Warren. She knew how restless the winged man had gotten in the last five years, and how reluctant he had been to join with the X-Men when they left Bayville in the first place.

He didn't dissapoint her.

"I agree with you, Jean." Warren closed his eyes and nodded once. "We have all stayed up here far too long. There is so much that we could be doing to help aid the Rebel's."

Jean offered him a small smile. She was too worried about what the others would think to give him any more thanks. After all, if Ororro and Hank said 'no', that they should continue to live under the orders of their missing professor, then the rest of the X-Men would no doubt follow their lead. They were the two oldest living in the Manor and no one would want to ignore their suggestions.

After a moment of hesitance, Hank gave a small nod. "Perhaps you're right. I'm sure that you have something in mind already, Jean?"

"I do." Jean's gaze turned fond as she smiled at the aged professor.

Streaks of silver had sprung up in the once dark blue fur that covered the older mutant. Once vibrantly gold eyes had dulled slightly, not anywhere near as sharp as they had been when he bore the title of Beast, and the lines in his face had deepened over the years. But his mind was still sharp and, when he got himself worked up, so was his tounge.

Ororro ran one hand through her hair and closed her eyes. She didn't want to discuss joining the War, didn't even want to _think_ about it actually, but the younger girl was right. They had lived away from the rest of the world for far too long. "Tell us what you have planned, child."

"Well, I know that they have a Factory set up just outside of Normal. I was thinking that we should see what we can do there. Maybe bring some of the mutants back to the Manor? If Warren doesn't mind, I mean?" Jean rushed out before either of the older mutants could change their minds or Scott, who was scowling at her, could interrupt.

In her mind, a Factory was the perfect place to make their appearence. To let the world know that the X-Men were back and they were _finally_ making a stand. And that, maybe, there would be a change in the days that followed.

Factories were dreadful places. Large encampments that had popped up way back in 2016; sometimes they were single buildings, other times they were sprawling grounds, always surrounded by large wire fences and smelling of death and blood. In the Manor not much was known about what went on inside, or the inner workings of the buildings, but they knew enough to realize that the buildings brought nothing but bad news.

Every mutant that was registered, another act that Jean and the others knew sadly little about, eventually had to go to one of the nearby Factories. The ones that weren't registered, the run-aways and the outlaws, were all sent there as well. As far as the X-Men knew, few mutants ever left the boundries marked out by the fences again.

And, just like Jean had been hoping he would, Warren shook his head. "Of course not. I've already opened up my home here to you all, it would be my pleasure to open it up to people who really need the safety of these walls."

Hank gave another nod. "I must say, I agree with Warren and Jean. But we shouldn't rush into things and we mustn't involve the younger students."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Scott shouted, slamming one hand down on the table. "You all can't be serious about everyone going out there and doing that!"

Ororro shook her head at him, eyes closing and mouth curving down into a soft frown. "We will not let any one that we deem still-in-training to come along, Scott, nor will we make anyone help us. But Jean has raised a point that I am sure we have all thought about ourselves more often than we want to admit."

The younger mutant scowled at her. "Thinking about it's different then actually _doing_ it."

"That may be true." The weather witch countered. "But that does not change the fact we need to do something, be this the only thing or not, to give those that are out there fighting for our safety a chance."

"Well I'm not going with you." Scott said, angrily pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. "And I think that it's a really bad idea for any of you to go."

It hurt that Scott didn't want to go because though Ororro, Hank, and Warren's aproval would be of great help, he was really the only one that Jean had _craved_ would say she'd done good to realize they'd been wrong for so many years. But she wasn't surprised he didn't agree with their decision and she didn't try to stop him when he stormed out of the dining room.

Scott could do and say what he wanted. She was still going to do something about the War. She was going to make a difference.

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"Will you, like, watch where you're going, Scott?" Kitty snapped as the older mutant bumped into her. "Some of us are trying to, like, walk here you know!"

Scott scowled at the younger girl and ran a hand through his hair. He was mad at Jean, furious with her really, but he forced himself to take a deep breath before he spoke. "Sorry Kitty. I wasn't paying attention."

"I could tell." Kitty said annoyed, crossing both arms over her chest and narrowing her light blue eyes at him. Then she turned on her heel and continued in the direction she had been heading before, leaving behind an uncomfortable air.

She had never been too fond of Scott, and the boy knew that, but in the years that the students of the Institute had spent in hiding her feelings of mild irritation towards him had changed into hate. Into a feeling of such immense rage that everyone in the Manor, students and teachers alike, did their best to keep them seperated.

No one knew why Scott was the girl's chosen target.

Scott knew that he probably never would.

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When the mutants lived at the Institute, they had all gotten their own rooms. It was a privelage for them. A way for Charles to show that he trusted them and wanted them to be happy. Even the newest and the youngest were able to room on their own, unless of course they asked to room with someone else. Here, in the house that Warren owned, hidden away in the middle of the mountains, every mutant shared with someone else. It was for safety more than it was for a lack of room.

In the first few years of their solitude, back when Charles Xavier had lived in the Manor with them, the people who would room together was carefully chosen. A teacher with a teacher. A student with someone that they got along with. Powers that worked well together and personalities that complemented each other. Their former teacher had done the best he could to make them happy, considering the circumstances.

It was for that reason that Kitty Pride and Amara Aquila had been put into the same room nearly twenty-three years ago. Back then, they had been the closest of friends. They joked and they laughed and they got into all sort of mischief together. It was only natural for them to be placed together as room-mates.

Now though, when Kitty stalked into her shared bedroom, Amara didn't even look up from the book she was reading. And Kitty did her best to not look at the brunette as she crossed the room and crawled into her bed; pulling the covers up to her chin and turning her back on the world around her.


	3. Just In Time

A/N: Hello and welcome back to the story! I told you all that I would update this quicker this time, didn't I? Now if only I could get Nimh to read them as quick as I updated them...*cough -hint hint- cough* Anywho, I don't really have much to say except that the next chapter isn't planned out in the slightest and might take longer to get posted. I have a lot of kinks that I need to work out, plot holes that I need to patch, and character time lines that have to be written down. It's actually all rather daunting, considering the amount of stories I have to do that for. (far, far too many stories).

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><p>Compared to some of the others that Tabby had seen, the Factory just outside of Normal was rather small. It looked like, at one point or another, it had been the Town Square but whatever buildings or park had been there before were gone. Destroyed years ago at the start of the War when Normal pledged itself as a town that fully supported the Friends Of Humanity's ideals. Now, in place of a cobblestone house or a place for children to play, a single story cement building had been built.<p>

The Factory covered roughly two hundred feet* and, like every other factory she had ever seen, was surrounded by a chain link fenced. The fence was a good thirty feet tall, topped off with roll after roll of barbed wire. In the darkness of the night, she wasn't able to tell whether it was lined with alarms or if it was electrified. Some of them were. Some of them, she had discovered, where only made to _look_ as if they were laced with dangerous traps.

It all depended on the Factory and what Level it was. And that was something that the blonde mutant hadn't been able to figure out yet.

Normally she would be sent out with Pietro or Lance, or one of the many other mutants that they had teamed up with over the years, and she would have a good week to find out all of the Factories quirks. That luxury hadn't been an option this time.

Through the diamond shaped links of the fence, Tabby could just barely make out a handful of Friends Of Humanity workers milling about. She was too far away to tell how many were armed. Behind the men walking about she could make out a large set of doors. Large, imposing metal doors that sent chills through her and made her stomach plunge.

It wasn't the first time that she had done it but the thought of _breaking into a Factory_ still made her feel more nervous than anything else she had ever done.

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There had been a time, many years ago, where Pietro Maximoff had been the scourge of the Factories. If one was lucky enough, or unlucky enough depending on who was asked, to capture the mutant than the halls of the Facotory he was stuck in would echo with his voice. Insults and jibes and words that would make the most hardened member cringe were screamed at the top of his lungs. Punchs and kicks were flung without care for the punishment he would recieve for acting out.

Pietro made it his personal mission to make his stay there a living Hell for every member of the Friends Of Humanity.

But, as the years passed and the Factories adopted crueler methods of getting rid of the mutants they deemed 'useless' or 'too dangerous', things changed. In the year of 2027, something happened that would change the speedster's world forever. Few mutants know the full story as to what happened that fateful June day. Even fewer are willing to speak about it. But everyone knows that, since then, Pietro's entire attitude over the Factories has changed.

That's why, when the guard came into his cell and demanded that Pietro get to his feet, he listened.

Pietro tucked his head down, listless blue eyes locking onto the bare stone floor, and took a deep breath as he struggled onto both feet. He did his best to keep most of his weight on his right leg and ended up holding the other foot just off the ground. A dark copper stain covered the left leg of his jeans, which had lost any semblance of being a skinny jean and now hung loosely off of his body. The once-blue shirt he wore was in a similar state; torn and stained, hanging off of both shoulders, billowing out around his mid-section, and giving full view of the thick metal collar around his neck.

"Hurry it up, freak." The guard, a small statured man by the name of Jeffery Hoff, barked out. He was holding the door Pietro's cell open with one hand, the other hand steadily aiming a small caliber pistol at the mutant's head. The intent was clear - behave or he shot.

Pietro kept his mouth shut as he hobbled across the small cell he'd been kept in. There was nothing he had to say to the guard, especially nothing that wouldn't earn him a blow to the face.

"You'll never guess what sort of a surprise we have for you today, mutie." Jeffery taunted once Pietro was out of the cell and standing in front of him. The gun was pressed square between the white haired man's shoulders, urging Pietro to start walking down the dimly lit hallway. "See, we've decided that we don't want all three of you here together any more. So we're gonna ship you off to Westchester and let _them_ deal with you!"

Stumbling slightly, Pietro clenched both eyes shut and forced himself to take in another deep breath. His heart was racing now. Pounding louder and louder in his ears, threatening to burst if he didn't do _something_, _anything_, soon. But, barely able to walk, he was completely helpless to do anything. It wouldn't be up to him if he was shipped to Westchester. It would be up to the Friends Of Humanity and the mutants that he had been thrown in with.

In the cells that lined the hall the two men were walking down, some of the other mutants had moved to the barred doors of their cages. They gazed out in an almost mournful way, through blackened eyes and bruised faces, as Pietro was led to what would no doubt be his death. Everyone knew what awaited a mutant in Westchester and they all felt pity for the boy, even if they had no idea who he was.

Standing at the front of one cell, two bony hands wrapped around the cold metal bars, was a too-thin girl. Bridgette Manatone was almost seventeen, though she didn't look it. She had spent most of her life living in the Factory just outside of Normal; her power was intrigueing but not dangerous and she didn't give any of the guards a hassle so they had yet to bother to move her.

"That's your friend, isn't it?" Bridgette asked her cell-mate quietly, dark green eyes following Pietro as he was herded down the hall.

A grunt was her only answer.

"They're taking him to Westchester." Bridgette's voice hitched slightly when she said the name of the town and she shuffled her feet slightly, uncomfortable with even saying the name out loud. "He's going to die."

"No he ain't." Todd said bluntly, not looking up from the item in his hands.

"He is." Bridgette insisted. "There aren't any Factories in Westchester, only Incinerators. And they're going to throw your friend in one of them!"

Again, Todd grunted in answer. He _could_ have argued with the younger girl if he wanted to. He would have won the arguement too, just like he always did. But, at that moment, he had more important things to worry about. Todd wasn't stupid or ill-informed, after all, he knew just like every other mutant in America knew that Westchester was famous for the amount of mutants it burned.

That meant that he had less time than he thought he did.

"Todd?" Bridgette questioned, stepping away from the bars and closer to the back of the cell where the older mutant was crouched in the shadows. She cradled her left arm close to her chest when she moved, careful of jarring the broken bone. "What are you doing? I thought you would have been more upset."

In the week and a half that Todd Tolensky had been her cellmate, she had learnt more about the two mutants that had been captured with him then she had about himself. He called them his brothers, said that they were always getting into messes like this lately - Todd didn't tell her how it was his own fault they were in the Factory this time, nor that he was starting to think his abilities were slipping.

Bridgette would have thought that he would be far more upset to know his friend, his 'brother', was going to his deathbed as they spoke.

Todd didn't even bother to grunt an answer at her this time. Instead he flicked his yellow eyes towards her, briefly taking in her gaunt appearence and ratty looking brown hair, gave her an annoyed frown, and then looked back down at the precious item he held in his hands.

It was a thin piece of metal, no wider or longer than an uncurled paper-clip. One end was blunt, the other bore a lopsided but sharp point. It had taken him days to weedle it into a point. Even longer to find the metal wire. But now it was ready. It would be the key, not just to his escape, but to all of the Brotherhood's very survival.

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There are certain rules that are layed down for mutants held prisoner in a Factory. Rules that they all know and most of them fear.

Beatings are a standard form of punishment.

If a mutant acts up too much or their powers are deemed 'useless' or 'uncontrollable', they're killed.

If they last a week in the same Factory, then they are branded with a number unique to them and them only. One that every member of the Friends Of Humanity will write down in their Bingo Book. Something that they will forever mark them as a mutant, no matter how many years they manage to live.

Through sheer luck and skill, and more than a little bit of rage, Lance Alvers had managed to escape being branded time and time again. Twenty eight times and counting he had been caught and thrown into a Factory. Seventeen of those times had been for roughly two weeks. Three times he had been held in a cell for almost a month. Once, it had been almost two months. Yet, for some reason or another, he had never been branded with the mark of a mutant before.

Margaret Winston, the leader of the Factory that Lance was currently jailed in, had decided to change that. She had decided, just the night before, that she would be the one to rid the world of three constant trouble makers. Fallows, she knew, would reward her generously for the defeat of some of his most lingering adversaries. And she would start by breaking them all down - then she would find a way to kill them off, one by one.

The mutant formerly known as Avalanche was the perfect way to start. And what better way, she figured, to break him down then by marking him? So that even if he managed to escape her grasp this time, he would never again be able to live a free life.

_That_ was the only reason that she showed up to supervise something as commonly done as a branding. Because Margaret wanted to be there when she accomplished something that no other Factory had yet to do.

She relished in watching the scar-covered boy struggle against the heavy ropes binding him to the chair. The skin around Lance's wrists had torn open, staining the tawny bonds a deep crimson. Similar marks were appearing around his bare torso and ankles as the ropes dug into the unprotected skin and grated against tender flesh.

She loved the look on his face. One made up of equal parts hate and anger. And Lance's eyes, oh, they were Margaret's favorite part. The look of thinly vieled _fear_ that showed in those eyes; one green, the other a misted grey, both trying to use anger as a cover for the real emotion that he felt.

A member of the Friends Of Humanity entered the room. He walked over to Lance and roughly pushed him forward in the seat, stretching the ropes as far as they could go. Then he held the mutant there. A second man entered from a different door. This one held the brand - a long metal pole with interchangable metal numbers on one end. The numbers were glowing a faint red and, even from her spot on the second floor over-hang, Margaret could see the smoke that rose off of them.

The man holding the branding pole looked up at her, waiting for her signal to start the process. She gave a single, curt nod. And then she smiled as Lance's agonized screams and the scent of burning flesh intermingled and filled the air.


	4. In Need Of A Hero

A/N: I am so, so sorry for how long it took to get this updated! I'm sure once you get reading you will all be able to see _why_ I had such trouble - what with so much going on at once. I hope that it came out as good as I think it did!

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><p>Tabbitha was not a beginner when it came to raiding Factories. In the past twenty three years, she had helped free mutants from more than two hundred different Factories. Fifteen laboratories. On one occassion, only a year or so ago, she and Lance sprung everyone that was being held on the Incerators lot. More than a few times she had raided the place from the inside out. It was second knowledge to her now.<p>

But this time was different. This time, she had no knowledge what so ever on the Factory she was breaking in to. She didn't know where the guards were posted or what sort of weapons they wielded. Not a clue how far down the basement ran or what number of mutants were held in cells. Even if she did, it still wouldn't be the same.

This time, Tabby was alone.

Taking a deep breath, Tabby stood up from the shadow she had been crouched in. Doing things how she normally did them wouldn't work. It would just end up getting her killed, and she refused to acknowledge that there was a big chance she still wouldn't make it out alive this time.

From where she was standing, she could only see two doors on the building. Both doors were equally guarded, with three uniformed men standing outside of each. At most Factories, there were guards that patrolled the perimeter of the fence too. So far, Tabby hadn't seen them. She assumed that they were on the other side of the building and making her way towards where she stood.

There wouldn't be enough time to make any sort of a plan. If she didn't move now then she would get caught. If she didn't act now, tonight, this moment, then she _knew_ that she wasn't going to see Lance or Todd and Pietro again.

So Tabby did the only thing she could think of. She took three large steps away from the fence and forced a boom into the palm of her right hand. Then she closed her eyes and hurled it as far as she could

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"C'mere, Bridgette." Todd kept his voice low as he waved the brown haired girl over towards him. He kept the other hand close to his chest, fist clenched tight around the small piece of metal that he'd spent the last two days sharpening.

Bridgette shook her head and kept her eyes glued to the hall outside of their cell. Both hands were wrapped around the metal poles, her body pressed as close to the door as she could get it. All along the hallway, mutants were doing the same. Blackened and red streaked eyes were turned to the eastern-most end of the hall, few daring to hope but all willing to plead and beg to be let loose, to be given a second chance. If they moved away from the bars, it was likely that whoever had just set off the alarms would pass them by.

"Bridgette, I mean it!" Todd spoke with more force, giving a sharp wave. He didn't have time to deal with her now, nor did he have the time to explain what was going on.

"I think it's a break-out!" Her heart started to pound when the boy across from her nodded his head. "It is! It's a break out!"

Narrowing his eyes, Todd crossed the small space of their cell and stopped right behind Bridgette. He grabbed a hold of her left shoulder with his free hand, the other hand running down the smooth metal, feeling for the almost non-existant crack in it. "Hold still, dawg, and stop attractin' attention to us."

"Wh-what are you doing?" Bridgette stuttered, trying to twist her head around and look despite Todd's words.

"Just hold still. It'll only take a second." Todd grunted through clenched teeth. The tip of the make-shift needle was already starting to splinter. It wasn't made for picking such complicated locks - but then nothing had ever been made that was able to easily stand up to the power restricting collars the Friends Of Humanity were so fond of using.

Still, Todd was good at picking this locks. Getting mutants out of the metal collars was what he did.

It only took another few jiggles of the piece of metal for a loud click to be heard over the sirens. Then a mechanic whirr and a beep and the smooth clasp resting on the back of Bridgette's neck popped open. With a clang inaudible through the noise suddenly starting up around them the collar slid off of the young girls neck and hit the floor.

"There." Todd said, taking a step backwards. He worried the ruined metal splinter in to the waist band of his jeans, forcing himself to give his cell-mate the few moments that she so deserved.

Almost as though she was in a haze, Bridgette had listed a trembling hand up to her neck. The feel of skin beneath her chin was so strange, so foriegn. She could feel, not cold metal, but her own throat. It was the first time in almost eight years that she had been able to do that. The first time in almost eight years that she had felt the energy of her mutation rush through her veins, into her heart and her blood and her soul, giving her the energy and determination that she had been lacking for so long.

"You did it." Bridgette said, awe creeping into her voice. "You got it off!"

Seeing the young girl so happy sent a thrill through him. That was why he had started doing this. To see that look on people's faces, to hear the joy in their voices when they were finally out, to help them gain the freedom that they so rightly deserved. That it helped him get revenge was only an added perk. Standing there, in that dark cell, he could see the impact he was making.

For once, it was a positive one.

Todd gave the younger mutant a brief smile. "Told ya it would only take a second. Now get out of the way so I can get us out of here."

Bridgette nodded. She took a few steps towards the other mutant, hand still running over her throat. It was just so hard to wrap her mind around the fact that she was free. To know that, if Todd kept his promise, she would be seeing real sunlight again. It was just too good to be true - but that was a thought that she quickly pushed to the back of her mind, refusing to think about it.

Todd got about a foot away from the door before slouching his shoulders, sliding one foot slightly behind the rest of his body. Outside of their cell, the siren started screaming. There were other mutants running down the halls, fear in their eyes, determination in each step. Gaurds were streaming from everywhere, carrying guns and batons and cattle prods, shouting threats. He took a deep breath and scanned the crowd, knowing that he only had once chance at this. Todd slid his left foot further behind himself. Then, in one fluid motion, he bunched his mucsles and pulled it back towards his body. Used the momentum to add strength to his already powerful kick. There was a screech of metal bending and breaking when Todd's foot came in contact with the door of their cell.

There had been a time when Todd could swing his leg and take down break walls. When he could spend hours running around and fighting and _winning_. But, despite his refusal to admit it, the hunger and the injuries had gotten to him. That simple kick, something he used to do without even thinking, had left him reeling.

"Todd?" Bridgette asked, taking a half-step towards him.

The older mutant shook his head. There wasn't time for him to collect himself. They had to leave _now_. "M'fine. Just make sure you stay with me, 'kay?"

When the girl nodded, Todd took off. He ignored the pain in his ankle and the people running around him, instead focusing on the girl struggling to keep up with him and the flash of white that he was looking for. Because, while he would do his best to Bridgette to safety, he wasn't going to leave without Pietro and Lance.

XXXXXXX-XXXXXXX-XXXXXXX

There was not a single X-Man in the group that had seen a Factory before. Yes, they had all heard of the buildings. They had heard whispers of the way mutants were treated like swine, of the horrid condition the buildings themselves were kept in, and of the brutality of the guards. But none of them had actually _seen_ a Factory before. Because of this, they had all formed their own opinions.

Jean stood at the top of the hill, one hand on a tall oak tree. The forest around them and the shadows of the night gave them enough coverage that they felt secure enough to get a good grasp on their surroundings before taking action. The plans that they had made earlier couldn't be carried through, not with the chaos going on below.

Beside her, Ororo was gazing down at the riot and shaking her head. Her mouth was pulled into a thin line, blue eyes pools of sympathy and sorrow. It was a sickening thing to watch. Mutants, most with their powers restrained, were trying to force their way to the single hole in the fencing. The guards had formed a line though, one that wasn't easy to break. Gunshots rang through the area, snagging in the branches and sticking in the hearts of the small group. People, from both sides, were falling. There were screams, there were wails, and there was really nothing that could be done at this point. It was out of control.

"What are we going to do?" Kitty asked, voice soft and nearly drowned out by the sounds of violence.

There were so many mutants trying to swarm through the gate, that they were knocking each other down. People were being trampled. Shoved. Pushed. It had turned into a standard case of every man for himself - because no one wanted to go back to those cages, not when they had been given this chance at freedom.

"What we came to do, I guess." Rouge muttered. The scene below unnerved her, terrified her, but she had finally come this far. She wasn't about to just turn tail and go back to her mansion without even trying to help here.

The X-Men have formed their own thoughts and opinions of what went on outside of their small world. None of them were prepared for the truth.

XXXXXXX-XXXXXXX-XXXXXXX

Jeffery Hoff has been a member of the Friends Of Humanity for almost six years. There is no pity in his heart for mutants, especially not the ones housed in the Factory. These mutants, he figured, were here because they deserved to be here. Because, if they weren't, then they would kill and steal and rob, leaving the world a place fit for no one. Safe for no one. So when the alarms went off, signaling that there was a breach in security, it sent a thrill through him. In his mind, this was the perfect opportunity to get rid of the scourge inhabiting these cement walls.

His charge at the moment was Pietro Maximoff; a mutant famed for always breaking free and always causing trouble when he was captive. Jeffery had been instructed to deliver the white-haired mutant to the Transport Bay, where he would then be taken to one of the many Incinerators that filled Westchester. But why not take this chance to add a little glory to his own name?

It was with that thought in mind that Jeffery shoved the gun he was holding into the middle of Pietro's upper back, directly between his shoulder blades. The frail looking mutant stumbled and scrabbled to catch himself - but, by doing that, put too much weight on his broken leg. A fire like pain shot up through the injured appendage, traveling through his leg and into his hip, up his back and into his chest. The breath was forced from Pietro's throat and his legs gave way beneath him. The cold stone floor scraped his palms and arms but, by chance, he managed to keep his head from hitting the ground.

Above him, Jeffery sneared. "I think that we've all had enough of dealing with you, freak."

He raised the gun. Pointed the barrel at the back of the wounded mutants head - and Pietro was struggling to get up but his arms would barely support his body weight, let alone get him off of his hands and knees. Went to pull the trigger, stopped only by a sudden weight on his back right before he was sent stumbling to the right.

"What the fuck?" Jeffery shouted, swinging around to hit whatever had gotten him. His unguided fist struck Todd on the shoulder, sending the gangly mutant stumbling backwards. Bridgette had crouched down beside Pietro, placing a gentle hand on the speedster's shoulder. Around them, mutants were trying to flee and guards were trying to get the swarm of prisoners under control.

"Get yo' filthy hands away from him!" Todd snarled, straightening out his feet and bracing himself. He hunkered down slightly, into the position most natural for his mutated vertabrae.

"Oh, we got ourselves some sort of mutie big-shot, do we?" Jeffery taunted, readjusting the gun in his hand. In the dim lighting of the hall and with everything goin on around him, he didn't recognize Todd for who he was. Didn't realize that it wasn't just some kid trying to help a fellow prisoner out, but one of the few mutants willing to give his own life in order to save Pietro's.

Todd said nothing. Instead he slid one foot just slightly behind his body and bent the other at the knee. Steeled his shoulders and brought both arms up in front of his chest, one hand open, the other hand curled into a fist.

There were other mutants running around them but, in that moment, it seemed as though they were alone. Just the four of them, standing there in their own little fued. Everything else was blocked out and ignored.

Jeffery let out a low chuckle. "What? Think you can take me, freak? I don't think so. In fact, I think I'm just going to do the world a favor and get rid of all of you!"

"Todd?" Pietro rasped, lifting his head up to stare at the other boy. There was relief in his eyes, shoving the fear and the resignation away. He may not have been able to fight or run his way out of this God forsaken Factory, but he knew that Todd would make sure he got out. Would make sure that _all_ of them got out.

"Pietro, right?" Bridgette slid her hand down Pietro's shoulder and under his arm. She used her other hand to brace against the floor. "Can you get up if I help?"

Pietro nodded. Grunting, in pain and in effort, he gathered himself and tried to push himself up. His arms shook and, without Bridgette helping him, he didn't think he would have been able to make it. But he did and, the moment that he was on both feet, Bridgette gave him a slight shove in the direction that the crowd was moving in. The white-haired man stumbled but understood and started moving in that direction; though not quickly, because he refused to start moving unless he knew Todd was following.

"Todd!" Bridgette dodged her way over to the mutant she had been sharing her cell with. "You need to go!"

Todd glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, brows creasing in confusion. He couldn't see the other Brotherhood boy anymore. "Where's Pietro?"

"You need to go." Bridgette repeated. She could feel her eyes watering and fear clenched her heart. But this was the right thing to do, and she knew it. Knew that, if Todd wanted to get his friends, _his brothers_, to safety then this was the only way. "_Now_."

It didn't take a genius to understand her. Todd had said the same thing many times in the past, though he had always managed to pull himself out of it in the end. He had watched many other mutants, some that he knew well, some that he'd just met, say the same thing.

"Thank you." Todd told her, and then he turned and he ran. When he got to him, Todd reached out and wrapped a hand around Pietro's boney shoulder, tugging the other man along with him. It hurt to move so quickly, but Pietro followed - after all, he was not the only one that was hurt and Todd was breathing far heavier than he should have been.

"How precious. The freaks are trying to save each other." Jeffery gave another small chuckle and turned his gaze onto the young mutant before him. Then he pointed his gun at Bridgette, who had pushed herself between the guards line of fire and the two fleeing mutants. Cocked it. And then he pulled the trigger. The bang was lost in the surrounding noise and not one person stopped to look at Bridgette.

By the time she hit the floor, she was already dead. Todd and Pietro had dissapeared into the crowd.


	5. Raising The Stakes

A/N: Would you like at that? It's not just the same month, no, this is the second post this week! Amazing! Of course, this isn't the longest chapter I've written...Which brings me to my first question...Would you all rather see quick but average length updates? Or long waits for long-ish chapters?

My second question is more of a request. If you would all be kind enough to participate in the poll up in my profile, I would appreciate it. It's helping me to decide on pairings for this story.

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><p>"It is alright, child." Ororo said, kneeling down next to the sole chair in the room. The thick ropes that wrapped around Lance, around his ankles and knees and wrists and stomach, were tainted red. In spots, she could see the wound they'd left, where the fabric had rubbed away layer after layer of flesh and dug deep into the brunnets skin.<p>

Lance stayed frozen, all thoughts coming to a complete stop when the white haired woman started tugging on the ropes binding him to the chair. Every touch sent a flash of pain through him, adding to the constant burn on the back of his left shoulder. He couldn't help the sharp intake of breath when she roughly jerked on one of the knots, drawing the rope tighter against his chest and upper arms. Trails of blood started to clear away the grime that coated his skin, making it seem darker then it really was.

"I am so sorry but I have to pull in order to get you out. Just try to hold still." Ororo told him, fingers deftly working at the lumps in the rope. There were four of them in all - two binding him into his sit, one wrapped around his wrists, keeping them looped to the back of the chair, and one holding both ankles together. They were clearly tied to be cut away - but she had no knife with her and so all she could do was hope that she could untie them.

Lance closed his eyes and gave a sharp nod. He didn't trust himself to speak. Didn't know what he would say; because he recognized that woman now. He could picture her, twenty some years younger, with the same stark hair and the same kindness in her eyes. She used to call him _'child'_ then too. He remembered, and Lance found it funny that this was what came to mind, but he remembered that she always smelled of chamomile and mint.

That odor was now over-powered by the scent of Lance's own blood and the acrid smell of burnt flesh.

XXXXXXX-XXXXXXX-XXXXXXX

Madness, that's what it was. The Factory had turned into complete and utter madness. The guards, all bearing the white uniform of the Friends Of Humanity, had given up on trying to calm the mutants and had turned to merely attacking whoever got too close to them. In turn, the mutants trying to flee were doing everything in their power to just _leave_. They trampled anyone that fell. Shoved anyone who got in their way. Ducked their heads and ignored the screams because, in that moment, all they cared about was getting out of the building that had been holding them prisoner.

Tabby knew that it was her fault. Every death that occured today would be because of her. She had caused that mob - and she had done it on purpose, which just made it so much worse.

Generally, when a break-out was sprung, it was with a carefully thought out plan. Tabby and the rest of her brotherhood would spend days staking the Factory out. They would find the guards, find the weakness in the walls, find the hidden rooms and the secret jails. Then, when the day to let their fellow mutants free arrived, they would break everyone out _slowly_, directing each freed person to safety. It was a practice that she had nearly perfected. And one that she had completely ignored today.

This chaos had been her goal when she broke in. It had been what she needed, because without she knew that she would never find the three mutants she was looking for. These prisoners were her disguise, keeping the attention away from her as she moved from cell to cell. The guards paid her no mind because they were too busy shooting down the innocent men and women that she had set loose.

The thought sent a shudder through Tabby and she stopped for a moment, one hand clutching the open iron-barred door that she stopped beside. Her blue eyes were misting up, chest beginning to ache and twist with guilt. In that moment, all that Tabby wanted to do was stop and cry. Apologize to the people she was using, the people she was _killing_, and beg their forgiveness. Maybe even turn around and leave, pretending that she had nothing to do with the red haired boy slumped on the ground at her feet, blood still pooling around his torso.

"Don't be such an idiot!" She told herself, voice angry and lost. "You have to finish it!"

And she did. She had started this for a reason and she was going to see it through.

Tabby blinked hard, clearing away the unshed tears. Careful not to step on the fallen boy in front of her, she started down the hall again. The cells were sparse in the section that was walking through and her blue eyes flicked from head to head as she moved, scanning the fleeing crowd for a familiar face. She was so intent on trying to spot one of her friends that she didn't notice the red haired girl running towards her until they were both on the ground.

Reacting on instinct, Tabby stuck one hand out behind her as she fell. Over the din that filled the hall, she didn't hear the bone in her wrist snap. But she felt the top layer of skin scrape off of her palm followed by a shooting pain in both her hand and arm. She yelped, pulling weight off the limb the moment the rest of her body hit the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" The girl shouted. Without thinking, she reached down and grabbed a hold of Tabby's hands, tugging on both in order to help the blonde up.

Tabby screamed as the pain in her wrist magnified. With her good hand, she reached out and shoved the other girl hard in the shoulder. She jerked her newly injured arm close to her side when it was released, back pedaling several steps.

"I'm so sorry!" The girl repeated, horror etched onto her face. She reached out, offering Tabby a hand. "But we have to go! I can get you to safety if you come with me!"

"I'm looking for someone,' Tabby said, shaking her head. 'so I can't leave yet. Just get yourself outta here, kid! You don't want to get caught again, do you?"

The red head blinked, brows furrowing as she stared at the too thin girl in front of her. Took in the ill-fitting jeans with the hole in the left knee, the stained green tee-shirt that was atleast one size too big, the dark circles under blue eyes. And she thought, _that can't be her._ But, even without using her powers, she could tell that it was.

Jean took a deep breath and took a step towards the retreating blonde. "Tabby? Is that you?"

XXXXXXX-XXXXXXX-XXXXXXX

When the last rope was dropped and he could finally move freely, Lance let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He pulled his hands from behind his back, moving them in front of him and rubbing his raw wrists. There was a dark red circle around each wrist and, in that circle, a spot where the rope had dug into flesh.

Lance wondered, briefly, if they would scar.

"There." Ororo gave a forced smile as she stood up. The young mans blood coated the tips of several of her fingers from when she had worked on his wrists. Both hands shook. "We can help you get to safety, if you would like."

Turning his attention from his sore wrists to the weather witch, Lance briefly debated on what to say. It was clear to him that Ororo didn't realize who he was. He could tell by the way she was still looking at him with hopeful, unbiased eyes. He could decline her offer and leave, go back to his team and make do on their own - and this, really, is what he wanted to do. After all, they had made it twenty three years without the help of the X-Men. They could go longer, couldn't they?

The earth-user desperatly wanted to say '_yes_' to his own question. He didn't want these people to help. They had _left_ them once already. They could do it again. And this time, Lance didn't think Pietro, or Todd, or Tabby could handle it. He didn't think _he_ could handle it a second time.

Yet that was exactly why Lance nodded his head slightly. He thought they could go longer. But what if they couldn't?

Trying to ignore the part of him that thought this was a bad idea, Lance pushed himself out of the chair. The movement sent pain shooting up his spine and, for a moment, the room spun. Ororo reached towards him, gently placing a hand on Lance's shoulder. It felt like ice.

"Child?" She asked, and there was something in her voice that made Lance pull away.

He didn't want her pity. Lance turned so that he could actually see the white haired woman, his one green eye narrowing just slightly. "It's been a while, Ororo."

He could practically see her mind trying to work. She narrowed her eyes, mouth opening ever so slightly. And then it clicked with her - she took a sharp breath, blue eyes widening.

"Lance?" Ororo asked, disbelief thick in her voice. She didn't want to believe it, that someone she had once teached was being subjected to such a tormented life-style, but it was impossible not to see it in him now. This bedraggled boy standing before her couldn't be anyone else _but_ Lance Alvers.

Before Lance could fire off a retort, a distinctly Southern tinged voice made itself known above the noise from outside. "Hurry up, Storm! I think I can see Jean and Kitty comin'!"

"Kitty's here?" Lance demanded, turning his head away from Ororo and towards the door.

"Yes." Ororo said, holding one hand out towards the younger mutant. "She's here. Come with us, Lance?"

He ignored her hand, starting across the empty room instead. Lance could feel his heart pounding against his chest, each step making it worse. By the time he got to the door, Ororo right behind him, it felt like his chest itself was pulsing. Reaching out, he puched the metal door the rest of the way open - only to be met with the sight of what could only be called a break-out gone wrong.

People, mutants and guards, were running in both directions. Any semblance of order had dissapeared. Many of the exits had been closed off by now and it had become a mad dash to get out. Just off to the side of the room he'd been held in, pressed against the wall, stood a pale skinned girl. She wore long sleeves and black fingerless gloves, dark brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. When she turned to look at him, Lance could see a single white streak running through otherwise dark hair.

_Rouge_.

"There they are!" Rouge had to shout to be heard. She pointed down the left side of the hall and both Ororo and Lance looked where she directed.

Through the rapidly thinning crowd, they could just make out a small cluster of girls. Jean waved at them and then motioned towards the other side of the hall. Kitty was inbetween the other two girls, one hand on either shoulder. It took a moment for Lance to realize that she was phasing all three of them through the traffic. Not taking any more time to stop and look at her, because he still hadn't decided what he would say of do or think, Lance started towards the third member of the group.

"Tabby!" Lance shouted - and he isn't the least bit surprised that she's there, because she was _always_ there.

"Keep movin', Lance!" Tabby shouted. There was a glint in her eyes that he knew well. One that said they had won this time, they had all made it. "They're goin' to meet us out front!"

Lance nodded and then, without waiting for either of the two women beside him, he turned and started down the hall. The collar around his neck was still restricting him from using his powers, which would have easily cleared the way, but he still felt that he should take the lead. He was the biggest out of the group, the strongest one physically, and he could push when others couldn't.

The earthuser was just about to drive his shoulder into another man when everyone in the hall seemed to freeze. Then, as though an invisble wall had been placed down on either side of the hallway, the mutants and guards still scattered around them were all pushed to the side. A path that led directly to the exit had been cleared.

"I can't hold them like this for very long." Jean spoke through clenched teeth, jaws tight as she concentrated. The psychic energy that kept everyone else at bay pulsed whenever Jean took a step. What had originally looked like air now shimmered with almost translucent yellows and blues.

With the path cleared as it was, it didn't take long for the group of mutants to run out of the building. The fenced in yard was in no better shape then the inside of the Factory had been. There were bodies on the ground and smoke in the air, people clung to the chain link fence, trying to climb out of the encampement.

"Stand back!" Tabby shouted.

She broke away from the group, jogging a few steps closer to the fence. Holding out the hand that didn't ache, she forced the energy that flowed through her body out into her palm. It forced through the skin, forming a small white ball of swirling energy. Tabby called them _booms_. She flung the small ball of energy at the fence that surrounded the Factory and, just like it had when she broke in, it hit the metal and exploded.


	6. A Step Away

A/N: So I have three very important matters to discuss with all of you.

First - this is more of a filler chapter than anything. I hope you all don't mind, but the plot has to be moved on and sometimes a shorter chapter is what makes that happen. Next chapter should be twice as long as this; though I am making no promises.

Second - please stop by my profile and vote in my poll! It's to help me decide on future pairings for this story.

Third- this is me begging all of my lovely readers for something. Fan art? Please? I'm sure that my talented peeps out there could make some, just for what's been written for this story already.

Thank you all, and enjoy!

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><p>The area just outside of the chain-link fencing was eerily still compared to the chaos that had just been left. The Factory of Normal was placed directly in the center of the town. Three sides of the fence were lined with streets and buildings, roads that curved and lead into town, boarded up shops and former markets. Nothing was open and, save the fires that flickered in several of the Factory's windows, there were no lights on the streets.<p>

This was the scene was regularly saw when going to a city at night. Civilians, no matter what side they supported, were afraid. They didn't want to get involved in this war any more than they had to. So when the sun began to set, they went into their houses and locked their doors. Those locks stayed on no matter what happened. No matter who came to their doors begging for help, no matter what sounds came from the Factory they lived by, no matter what pain they caused by staying ignorant.

Of course, there were always a few exceptions. Those that believed in their cause so whole heartedly that they were willing to die in order to support it; except, and Lance and Tabby knew this fact well, death was usually the kindest pain that the Friends Of Humanity were known to inflict.

On the west side of the Factory, lining the fourth section of fence, lay the remnants of a forest. Years of fueling the concrete building constructed just beside it had reduced the once dense woodland to nothing but a smattering of oaks and pines. There was a distinct spot where they really started, where the forest once started, but it offered virtually no coverage and no protection from the guards still hunting for stray mutants.

It is this forest that the two members of the group once called the Brotherhood Of Mutants and the four girls from a group still known as the X-Men stood by.

Rouge and Kitty were closest to the smattering of trees; both huddled by one of the tall pines, staring warily at the two mutants they had helped rescue from the Factory.

"I don't know what to think about all of this." Rouge muttered, shaking her head.

Kitty nodded but didn't answer - too busy trying to figure out if it was really Lance standing down there, with a thick spiderweb of scars over one eye and raised skin covering his bare back. She couldn't ever remember seeing the older mutant that sick looking, with ribs jutting against skin and long brown hair nothing but a tangled mess. A part of her longed to run over to him and hug him, tell him how much she missed him, just like she had dreamt of so often in the past years. But the rest of her was afraid. Afraid that, if she did, he would push her away and the frail hope that she had clung to for so many years would shatter.

So she stood next to Rouge and forced herself, instead, to stare at the blonde haired girl beside her one-time boyfriend.

"Are you certain that your friends will be getting here?" Ororo questioned, choosing to ignore her younger comrades for the moment.

Lance snorted. "They'll be here."

Tabby nodded but didn't speak. Her whole attention was on the building standing just several feet away - and on the eyes locked to the back of her neck, the three girls standing behind her, the fact that the X-Men were here again and trying to act like everything was fine. Like they hadn't vanished off the face of the earth twenty three years ago, leaving everyone and everything behind.

And for what? She didn't know. She didn't think she _wanted_ to know.

What Tabby did know was that every moment they spent standing there raised the risk of them all being caught. And it raised the risk that Pietro and Todd wouldn't actually make it out of the Factory.

"We can't wait here much longer." Jean said. While she didn't know much about this hell-hole of a world that she had just flung herself into, she knew that. Knew that the flow of mutants coming out of the Factory had all but stopped, but she could still hear gunshots ringing from inside. Gunshots and screams - a noise that would haunt her dreams for weeks to come.

"You can't." Lance snapped, not looking away from the gap in the fence. "We can. They'll be here."

Jean pursed her lips together. Ororo closed her eyes and sighed; niether moved to leave. They couldn't.

_Maybe,_ Jean thought, _if it were someone else we could_.

But it wasn't someone else. It was Lance Alvers and Tabbitha Smith. It was Pietro Maximoff and Todd Tolensky. Members of the Brotherhood. Mutants that she had all but grown up with and that Ororo had all but raised. Jean didn't think that she would ever forgive herself if they just left them, not without a valid reason. Being afraid to wait, even when concealed by shadows and with full use of her powers, was not a valid reason.

Jean moved closer to her former teacher, deep frown set on her face. Rouge shifted uneasily and Kitty closed her eyes, turning her back on the small group further down the hill. Tabby held her breath, waiting, waiting, and Lance refused to show the worry that was slowly filling him - refused to show it because he had to appear strong, especially if the two youngest members of the group really didn't show up.

And then they were.

Pietro was leaning against Todd, one thin hand clutching the other mutants shoulder, pain and acceptance forming an odd mix in his murky blue eyes. It was clear, even from a distance, that the speedster was doing all he could to avoid putting any weight on his left leg. The foot barely skimmed against the ground as the duo half-walked, half-jogged away from the Factory.

Todd matched Pietro's pace, just as he had the duration of their trip through the Factory. If the white haired man stumbled, he stopped. If Pietro looked like he just couldn't go any further, Todd hefted more of the other mans weight onto himself, urging them both on; and ignoring the constant throb in his ankle and the itch of blood on his arm.

When they flung themselves through the gap in the fence, it was like they were flinging themselves away from their energy. Pietro made it four steps past the wire before he hit the dirt with hands and knees, breath coming in wild pants and eyes clenched shut.

Todd stooped beside him and placed a hand on Pietro's back. He could feel the other man shaking. Or he thought it was Pietro shaking. In that moment, with so much rushing through his mind and the ache in his body growing stronger, it very well could have been his hand that was moving.

"C'mon, 'Tro." Todd urged, though even to his own ears his voice sounded flat. "We're almost there."

Pietro only breathed harder, unable to get himself to form any sort of a response. A cold sweat was starting to break out on his forehead and the pain in his leg seemed to be magnified. There was no way he could get up. Especially not to run further, no matter how much he wanted to get to the top of the hill and demand Lance take him home.

And then he was there, in front of Pietro, with a dirty face and mis-matched eyes. Tabby was a few feet behind Lance, jogging down the hill over to where he and Todd had stopped at.

"Come on." Lance grunted, scooping Pietro up in his arms. Despite the fact that the younger mutant was unnaturally light, it still required him to move both his arms. And that meant that the tight, burnt skin on the back of his shoulder was stretched.

When she got to the three boys, Tabby held her uninjured hand out and grinned down at the youngest mutant of their little group. Todd Tolensky could be many things, ranging from unhealthy all the way up to unhinged. But he would die sooner then let one of his _brothers_ fall, and he would fight until his heart stopped beating if it meant saving his make-shift family. Days like this, she wondered if that was a good thing or not.

"We've got a free ride out of here, Toddles." Tabby told him, not bothering to try and stop the relief from floating into her voice. "So get up and lets get moving."

Todd blinked at her and sat there for a moment longer. He hurt and he was tired and, in that moment, her words meant nothing to him. But he took her hand anyway and let her tug him to his feet. The motion sent his head spinning and he stumbled forward, right into Tabby.

"Hey, Toddles. You alright?" Tabby asked. But she already knew the answer. After all, when was the last time any of them had been alright? Ten? Twenty years ago? Or had it been longer that, further back than the start of this war? She couldn't remember.

Without pulling away, Todd gave a small nod. Even that made him dizzy - and, vaguely, he remembered something striking him in the back of the head as he helped guide Pietro out of the Factoy. "M'fine."

Before Tabby could say anything else, someone shouted from inside of the Factory fence. Jerking away from the younger boy, who swayed for a moment before swinging his head to look back at the building they had just come from, Tabby turned and started up the hill. Lance had already dissapeared over its crest, as had Kitty and Rouge, but she could still see Ororo's white hair standing out against the dark of the night and the vague outline of Jean, just a few feet away from the weather witch.

"Come on, Todd! We've gotta get out of here!" Tabby shouted, and then she ran knowing that the younger boy would be coming after her.


End file.
